


Library

by lvcoloredmagic



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Pre-Canon, Reader Is Chara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 03:17:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5692558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lvcoloredmagic/pseuds/lvcoloredmagic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s something comforting about the smell of the library. Cool, dry air with a lingering scent of dust and old paper no matter what section you’re in. You'd learned quickly that in this place, you were free to do as you wished so long as it did not interfere with anyone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Library

**Author's Note:**

> on the no mercy route, the flavor text directly quotes the book "kitchen" by banana yoshimoto, which seems like a rather random reference -- 1990s japanese literature. i went and read the book after learning that and spent the entire time imagining a young chara making a public library their sanctuary, reading whatever they can get their hands on. yeah.
> 
> i just really like chara.

There’s something comforting about the smell of the library. Cool, dry air with a lingering scent of dust and old paper no matter what section you’re in. When you first stepped inside this large brick building, it had intimidated you; the silent, tense atmosphere left you timid, terrified of somehow ruining it with your presence: a young child in torn jeans, dirt smeared across their person at any given time. However, your fears were soon put to rest as a kind woman with silver hair and a gentle smile guided you through the building, helping you find books, showing you how to sign up for a library card. She even helped you figure out how to sign your name on the back of the little plastic card without smearing the ink.

It had been strange, being in such close proximity to an adult without feeling any sense of danger. You'd learned quickly that in this place, you were free to do as you wished so long as it did not interfere with anyone else. Easy terms to accept, you thought. You didn’t want to spend time around other people, anyway; that was why you ducked into the building in the first place, after all. 

There was a corner of the library, between the nonfiction and fantasy sections, illuminated by an antique lamp and furnished with a slightly rickety wooden table and matching chairs. It didn’t take you long at all to figure out this was the quietest, most secluded place in the entire building, and you made it your home. A comfortable routine was established. Every chance you got, you would come to the library, wander the tall shelves in search of anything that popped out at you, and then retreat to your corner with a diverse stack of books. Your quick reading skill was something you were proud of, and you would demolish the pile in a matter of hours. When you ran out of books, you would reluctantly leave your quiet sanctuary, bracing yourself for the world outside these old brick walls.

Today’s stack of books is a disarray of titles from numerous genres and authors. One book, _The Arrow of Time_ , selected from the physics section, promised to explain the nature of time itself and the scientific efforts to understand it to you. You poured over its pages, occasionally referencing a pocket dictionary, and came out of it more confused than you were when you started. You decided to find simpler books on the topic and move on. 

The next book you selected is a graphic novel, _The Never Weres_ , telling the colorful story of a group of teenagers in a dying world trying to solve a decades old mystery about a missing child. You predicted the ending about halfway through, but enjoyed it anyway. 

This book jumped out at you because of its odd title and the author’s name. _Kitchen_ , it’s called, and though at times you have some difficulty following the narrative, something about its words and phrases haunt you as you make your way through it. 

_“Although I had been earnestly daydreaming until then, I suddenly started to laugh. ‘I see two lovers staring over the cauldron of hell. Are they contemplating a double suicide? Surely this means their love will end in hell.’ I couldn’t stop laughing. I was certainly no fortuneteller.”_

You take the book with you when you leave the library that evening, stuffing it inside your shirt as you begin the trek back. 

 


End file.
